


Sofa

by ideliagirl



Series: Jon and Sansa's Excellent Use of Furniture [3]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - America, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Domestic Fluff, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Possesive Jon, Possesive Sansa, Shameless Smut, Sweetness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-28
Updated: 2017-03-28
Packaged: 2018-10-12 04:29:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10482093
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ideliagirl/pseuds/ideliagirl
Summary: 3rd installment of my series that starts with Table.Oh, you didn't think Jon and Sansa only used ONE piece of furniture for their naughty shenanigans, did you? Come on.At home for the night without their daughter, they try hard to find activities to pass the time. No, not really.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks again to all those who've kudo'd and commented on the first and second fics in this series!
> 
> Here, have some more smut! You know you want it.

“JON?! JON?! Baby, is that you?” Sansa shouts from the living room when she hears a loud slam.

“SANSA?!” Jon shouts back to her, running down the hallway from the front door he’d just come through. “Fuck, baby, I missed you.” He finally reaches her, dropping his bag and wrapping her up in his strong arms. “I missed you so much.”

She squeals when he lifts her feet off the ground. “I can’t believe I haven’t seen you in ten days!”

“I love working from home most of the time,” he starts, putting her back on the ground and cupping her face in his hands. “but if my editor thinks that means he can send me half way across the globe every four months, I’ll have to send my stern schoolteacher wife into his office to set him straight.”

She giggles happily, her hands running through his hair. “You saw Aemy?”

“Yeah, at Robb and Marg’s house for almost an hour.” He nods, smiling sweetly. “She squealed when she saw me almost as cutely as you did just now.”

She smacks him lightly on the shoulder. “You know, when I called yesterday to ask them to keep her, I tried to make it seem like it was so they could spend quality time with their niece, and not because I wanted to completely devour my husband for a night without our one-year-old interrupting us.”

“Any chance they bought that?” He kisses her cheek, her chin and starts down her neck.

“Robb maybe, because despite living proof in the form of a niece that you and I’ve had sex, he still never wants to think it happens.”

“Well your brother is a master at denial.” Jon chuckles, tucking hair behind her ear. “I’m guessing you were not so lucky with Margaery?”

“She’s sly as a fox, that one.” Sansa runs her teeth along the edge of his jaw. “When I dropped Aemy off this afternoon, Marg hugged and kissed her sweetly and then handed me a twenty-count box of condoms so she ‘won’t be babysitting _two_ kids in a years’ time’.”

Jon laughs loudly. “That sounds exactly like her.”

“Jon,” she begins, twirling the bottom of his tie through her fingers. “can I ask you a question?”

He looks at her as his hands start getting lower and lower on her back. “Of course, baby.”

Her front teeth pull deliciously on her lower lip. “Why are you still wearing clothes?”

“Um…” he stutters a moment before taking another approach, winking at her. “why are _you_?”

She steps back from him slowly, letting him gaze up and down her body. “I picked out my dress this morning specifically so I could be naked in less than 2 seconds.”

“I seriously doubt you could be naked in 2 sec—“ he stops and takes a desperate breath when she reaches to the hem, pulls it over her head and is indeed naked in that short a time. Fuck, she’s not even wearing a bra and panties.

She quirks her eyebrow. “Now what’s your excuse for _still_ not being naked?”

“Oh,” he reaches for her, grabbing her ass and starting to map out her shoulders and collarbone with his tongue. “I’m a stupid, stupid man.”

She laughs easily, yanking his tie loose and starting on the buttons of his shirt. “Let’s work on both the nudity and stupidity problems, shall we?”

“Fuck, Sansa.” He groans deeply, finally discarding the top half of his clothing. “I missed you so much my chest hurt.”

“I know, baby. I was so miserable with you gone.” She gingerly scratches down his chest and stomach. “Belgium.” She scoffs. “What the hell did you need to cover in stupid fucking Brussels, anyway?”

He feels her begin to work on his belt buckle and his eyes clamp shut. “A global economic and strategic conference where the world’s top 8 leaders meet to map out a plan to keep the planet from disintegrating into total chaos.”

“And _that’_ s more important than staying home to nail your wife?” She queries as he feels her hands on his thighs.

He hears the scrape of his zipper being lowered, then feels his pants fall to the floor. “No.” His eyes open again to find his goddess of a wife down on her knees. “No, not in the slightest.”

She reaches in to free his throbbing cock from his boxers. “Good answer, Mr. Snow.” She chuckles, lightly running a fingernail up his shaft. “You’d think while you were gone I’d have dreamt of you kneeling before me, eating my pussy…..but I actually dreamt of _this_ every night.”

She tugs down his boxers and takes his hard, aching cock in her exquisite mouth.

His hands go into her cool, silky hair and his fingers clench. “Sansaaaa,” he rasps out. “fucking hell.”

Her beautiful blue eyes look up at him from under her long lashes, her sweet lips smiling slightly around his tip, fingernails running up the V of his groin. His heart pounds in his chest, sweat threatens to trickle down his back and just when he thinks he’s got himself under control enough to enjoy her divine tongue for longer than two minutes, she pulls his ass closer to her face so his cock can hit the back of her mouth and go down the top of her freshly relaxed throat.

“FUUUCCCKKK, Sansa.” He groans loudly, nearly doubling over. “Oh, fuck, oh, you gotta stop.“ He starts to pull her away with his hands in her hair. She makes a noise of dissent. “Sans, unless you want me completely _ruined_ for the rest of the damn night in about 5 seconds, you’ll stop.”

She pouts as she pulls off him, her mouth making a loud and wicked pop. “You’re such a spoilsport. You just heard me tell you I’ve had wet dreams about sucking your cock every night and you make me stop after just—“

She’s cut off and lets out a screech of both surprise and joy when he hoists her up and wraps her long legs around his waist. “Well, I hope me fucking you senseless will make up for me being a spoilsport.”

“It might for starters.” She laughs and also tightly wraps her arms around his neck, biting his earlobe. She stops however when he makes towards the hallway. “Where are you going?”

“Our bedroom?”

“Uh, _no_.” She points to the back of the room. “I didn’t kick my daughter out of the house so I could fuck her father in our _bedroom._ I do that while she’s here.”

He kisses her hotly, pulling her tongue deep in his mouth and not watching where he’s going when he feels a sharp pain radiating up his leg. He lets out a yelp and awkwardly looks down to see he’s stubbed his big toe on Aemy’s baby-walker. “God! I’m sorry,” Sansa cringes. “I was trying to tidy up when you came home and I got distracted by—“

“Couldn’t care less.” He slams his lips to hers, then looks around the room. “Where?”

“Sofa.” She mumbles, pulling his lips back.

Although he’s distracted again by her lips and her hands rubbing up and down his back, he manages to make it over to the sofa without killing himself and drops her on it with a bounce and a musical laugh floating up from her lips to his ears. “I haven’t fucked you on this sofa since before Aemy was born.”

“Nope.” She moans when he falls beside her and kisses down her sternum and belly. “She falls asleep on it snuggled between us every night, so maybe it would be weird to have you pound me on it after she’s all tucked away.” She laughs at him when he lifts her leg and begins to kiss up towards her ankle. “But she won’t be falling asleep on it tonight.”

“Nope.” He parrots back to her. She giggles as he tickles the sole of her foot, but he then sees her smile falter slightly. “Hey—“ he gently gets her attention.

“I wouldn’t trade her for anything,” she begins softly. “I hope you don’t think that just because I wanted to be alone with you tonight it means I don’t want—“

“Hey, no,” he stops her soundly. “wanting a night away from your baby so you can spend it with the husband you haven’t seen in a week and a half doesn’t make you a bad mom. Doesn’t mean you don’t love her with everything you are.” He lovingly strokes her cheek. “I know that, Robb and Marg know that, so does Aemy.”

She nods. “Yeah.”

“Now,” he moves his hand down to take a handful of her breast and she grins up at him. “are we done with the parent-guilt? ‘Cause I’d really like to get back to the fucking-you-senseless part of the evening I promised.”

“Oh, we are so done with _everything except_ the fucking-me-senseless part of the evening, you don’t even realize.” She reaches for his astonishingly hard cock pressing against her hip. “Did you imagine my hand on your cock while you were away, baby?”

His eyes fall shut at her touch. “All the time, Sans.”

She leans in to brush her lips to the shell of his ear. “And did you get hard like this when you imagined it on your 10 hour flight back?”

“Well,” he brushes his thumb lightly back and forth over her nipple. “I was between an eight-five year old woman who had very dry skin and wouldn’t shut up about her dialysis, and a body-builder who sweat profusely and reeked of roast beef,” He leans down to pull the nipple between his teeth. “But surprisingly, _yeah_.”

She laughs deeply. “Am I softer and sweeter-smelling than them?”

“God, _yes_.” He groans.

Her grin is so sexy she should be locked up. “Would you like to be between _me_?”

“God, _yes_.” He scrambles down to the floor and hooks his hands behind her knees, pulling her rather unceremoniously to where her ass is on the edge of the sofa and he’s between her legs. His fingers quickly go to her folds, “Are you wet enou—“ he stops and moans loudly when they easily sink deep inside her hot, drenched pussy.

“I’d say I’m sufficiently wet, yeah.”

“Fuck, you’re so perfect, Sans.” He buries himself inside her without preamble, feeling the glide of her slick walls taking him in and hearing her sweet gasp as she stretches around him. He has to pause and draw in a deep breath. “I spend ten days dreaming about the moment I’m back in your cunt, and it’s still not as good as the reality.”

“If you wanna go slow later, we can go slow later,” she moans, bracing herself on the back of the sofa. “Fingertips softly tracing every inch of our bodies, your lips kissing every notch of my spine, our hips rolling together in a steady gentle rhythm. I love doing that, we can do all of that.” Her long legs wrap around his hips and she pulls him tighter against her so she can bite his lip. “But you’ve been in stupid fucking Brussels for ten days, and I need you to fuck me so hard and so dirty I’ll have to go to church every day for a year just to get the stink of sin off me.”

He surges up and his hips snap hard between her legs, hands gripping behind her knees. “Fuck, Sansa. Oh my God.” Over and over until time loses all meaning, his body pounds into hers and the legs of the sofa drum out their beat against the hardwood floor. “Your soft pussy, your sweet tits…..warm mouth…..firm ass. I want every single part of you before our night is done.” Flesh slaps into flesh, making a thoroughly naughty sound echo in the room. “You have to promise.”

She moans when he palms her breast, his pinch of her stiff nipple sending a jolt to her pulsing cunt. “I promise. I fucking love you, Jon. I fucking want you, Jon.”

“Always.” He catches her gaze, sweat dripping down his brow as he licks his lips. “Fuck, I always want you. Just assume that any moment of the day, I’m going about my business, wanting you like we are now.”

“You fuck me so good.” Her slick hips rock up, solidly meeting his, and the familiar but always magnificent feeling begins in her lower belly. “Nobody ever but you.”

“Mine. _Mine_ , Sansa. My wife, my baby’s mother. But you know what that really means, Sans?” She shakes her head. “It means you own me as much as I own you. Because it means you’ve given me everything I’ve wanted since I was seventeen.” His breath hitches and his head falls back, looking to the ceiling. “What can I give you, love?”

“Your cock inside me, your come inside me, your tongue inside me as we lay on the rug in this room later tonight.” She reaches up to bring his face back to hers and smiles lustfully up at him. “I’m a woman of simple needs, Jon Snow.”

“Fuck, I’m gonna come, Sans.” He falls down to her, one arm bracing against the back of the sofa, the other drawing her body into his. “I’m sorry, but I can’t—“ His lips and tongue drag against the crook of her neck as he still thrusts desperately inside her. “I wish I could last longer.”

“No, I want it.” She affirms. “I want you to.” Her hand goes up to his hair and she pulls so he can feel the burn in his scalp. “Just a little harder and I’ll be there with you.”

He tries to keep up a bruising pace for her, but after ten days apart, it’s too much. “Sans, Sansa, fuck, fucking hell, heaven, God, your pussy. So sweet, so, so………..” His embrace is almost crushing as he comes with a beautiful shout and sinks deeper into her arms. She feels his wetness inside her and smiles contently.

After a couple of breaths, she hears him softly mumble. “Baby, did you--?”

“Touch me, Jon. Put your fingers on me.”

His fingers sneak down to her clit and he rubs expertly, his tongue running against the seam of her lips, gaining entrance. His rhythm is perfect, just like always, just like the first time she snuck him into her room and they laid on the covers of her bed while he made her come from the way his fingers rubbed over her purple cotton panties.

She feels the scream rising in her throat and she bites her lip, reaching for a pillow from the sofa. He stops her. “No, Sans.” He stares into her eyes. “She’s not here, you don’t need to be quiet, you don’t need to muffle your cry. I wanna hear you loud, I wanna see you shatter. I love that I make you scream, scream because I make you feel so good and you just can’t hold it in.” He rubs harder, his body grinding against her. “Please. Do it for me now.”

Her legs stiffen and her ass rises off the sofa, she closes her eyes and her head presses back into the cushions as she lets out a wail so perfect, so complete, it makes her throat raw and him want to cry too.

He loves her. He wants her. That thought and the way she just came almost makes her float away, but she stays within the anchor of his sweaty, delicious body pinning her to the sofa.

“I love you.” He whispers as his lips brush her ear.

She smiles. “I love you.” She breathes in. “But you are kinda crushing me.”

He huffs a laugh. “Gimme half a second to remember how to move.” But he pulls himself up a moment later and weakly rolls off to the side of her.

She adjusts her position on the sofa until she’s laying horizontally and she pulls him to rest back in the cradle of her legs, her soft breasts pressing against his shoulder blades and her arms wrapping around him from behind.

“Fuck those twenty condoms, and God bless the Pill. Margaery doesn’t realize I’ve only ever taken your cock bare since we got engaged.” She laughs breathily and kisses the side of his head. “I love the feel of your come inside me.”

He leans back and pulls her lips to his for a sweet kiss. “Damn, I’m dripping sweat.” He cautions with a laugh.

“I’m all sweaty too.” She chuckles. “We’ll lick the salt off each other later.”

He lightly rubs his hand down her forearm. “How did I Iast ten days without you? Stupid fucking Brussels.”

She laughs. “I don’t care how long you’re gone.” She kisses his neck. “I mean, I’ll hate it, despise it while you’re actually gone. But as long as you come back to me? To us? Everything will be fine.”

“Always.” He kisses the palm of her hand. “Always come back.”

“Damn.” She lets out a groan, pushing the sweaty hair from her face. “You think we’ll still want each other like this when we’re old?”

“You’ll never be old.” He turns his face up to hers. “You’ll be graceful and timeless.”

She strokes a finger across the hair on his temple. “And you’ll be distinguished.”

“And yes, we’ll still want each other like this when we’re old.”

She presses a tender kiss to his lips and he feels her smile into it.

When it ends, he rubs a hand down his sweaty chest and looks around at the sofa. “We may need to move our slick bodies or it’ll stain the sofa.”

“Ah, who cares?” She blows out a breath. “It needs to be reupholstered anyway. Margaery danced a little too wildly to the moves of ‘ _Beauty School Drop-Out_ ’ while standing on it with a chocolate martini in her hand during our ‘ _Grease_ ’ sing-along night.” She laughs. “And Ghost has yet to abide by the rule we set down when we adopted him about not getting up on the furniture with dirty paws.”

“Maybe we should get rid of it.”

“Jon!” She smacks his arm harshly. “Aemy loves that puppy, she thinks he’s a big fluffy cloud!”

“No, not _Ghost_.” He calms her quickly. “The sofa.” He explains, chuckling. “It costs a lot of money to reupholster, and the sofa has to be at least 20 years old.”

“We can’t let go of this sofa,” She implores, ”your Aunt Dany gave it to us.”

He snorts and sweetly shakes his head at her. “You and your sentimental attachment to furniture.”

She sits up suddenly and the movement jerks him up with her. “Excuse me?” She stares at him in shock. “ME and my sentimental attachment to furniture?”

“Okay, fine.” He puts his hand up in concession. “I may have a slight attach—“

“I let you name our daughter Aemy  _Table_ Snow! That’s _for real_. It’s on her _birth certificate_ , Jon.” She shakes her head disbelievingly. “It’ll be on all her diplomas, and on her……..” She sucks in a huge breath. “Shit. Her wedding invitations. Oh god, what have we done?”

“Hey,” he rubs her hands to soothe her, “at least we convinced your parents it’s an ancient Gaelic name meaning ‘gift from the heavens’ and it’s pronounced _Tah-Blay_.”

“Fine.” She relaxes again. “Just don’t get all ‘Pot-calling-Kettle’ on me about sentimental attachments.”

“I won’t, you win.” He sighs, feeling the calmness of being in her arms set in. He takes her left hand and entwines their fingers. “You know, now that I think about it, I could never get rid of this sofa.”

“See?” She nips at his shoulder. “It’s good to have attachments to things.”

He lifts their joined hands to his lips and kisses the ring on her finger. “Yeah.”

 

**6 YEARS AGO**

 

“Dany, I really can’t accept it.”

“Of course you can.” She reiterated. “Jon, don’t be silly, it didn’t cost anything—it’s in the study we never use anymore. And everyone needs a sofa.”

“Well,” he started, looking around Sansa’s apartment-no, _their_ apartment. “The place isn’t big. Sansa already has her Grandma’s table, and I just moved my recliner over. Plus, we have a futon, so we’re all set.”

“First off, I’m going to delete the fact that you said, ‘ _we have a futon, so we’re all set_ ’ from my mind because none of those words even go together.” She put her designer purse on the floor and sat primly on Jon’s recliner. “And on a second more serious note, I know you’re reluctant to take anything from me and my family because, well because—“

“Because none of you knew I existed, or vice versa, until I was eighteen?” Jon rubbed his hand over the back of his neck. “Dany, I know. And I know it’s awkward, but I also know that since then I’ve grown to see you all as—if not dear family, then at least dear friends.”

“Except for Viserys, right?”

“I would actually swerve my car to _hit_ Viserys.” He deadpanned as they both chuckled. “But you don’t have to give me your money for me to feel happy that you’re in my life.”

“And if I were giving you my money, I’d appreciate hearing that.” She stated, a pale eyebrow lifting. “But it’s a _sofa_ ….it’s something you and Sansa can sit on and watch TV without ruining your backs.”

He smiled at her. “Okay.”

“So you’ll take the sofa?” She asked, grinning when he nodded. “And you’ll throw away the futon?”

“No, I’ll give it to charity.”

“Ugh,” she groaned. “that futon is in _no_ way charitable.” She stood up and retrieved her purse from the floor. “I’ll have the sofa sent over.” She started toward the door, but turned around and walked back to him. “We’re not wanting you to take our money. We’d give it to you gladly if you ever asked, but we know you won’t. You’re not like us.”

“Dany, I—“

She held up her hand to stop him, but smiled warmly. “I would’ve liked sharing my childhood with my somehow older-than-me nephew. Mother would’ve liked sharing her golden years with her grandchild. It didn’t work out that way until much later than we’d have ever guessed.” She squeezed his arm. “All we’re asking is that you let us share little pieces of the life we’ve lived—with you now.”

She lightly kissed his cheek and walked back to open the door. “Mother’s having lemon-dill chicken made for dinner with you and Sansa on Sunday, hope that’s okay.”

“Hey, Dany?” He began hopefully, stopping her before she walked through. “How do you think you'd both feel about Grandma sharing her engagement ring?”

**Author's Note:**

> 'stupid fucking Brussels' is merely a humorous point of fluff in the fic. I'm sure Brussels is a lovely city with streets that shine like gold and sugar-drops instead of leaves on the trees. No offense intended to the Belgians.


End file.
